


Wise Counsel

by taradiane



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 10:22:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4176243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taradiane/pseuds/taradiane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for hd_smoochfest in 2012.  Can't remember the theme that year, but my prompt was:  Harry and Draco have a fragile friendship (being friendly is still new to them and their relationship hasn't been strained or tested yet). Draco is accused of some crime and the evidence really makes him look guilty. He is innocent, but he assumes Harry won't believe him given his past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wise Counsel

Harry had never been less excited about an interrogation in his life. In fact, the very prospect of walking into that cold, white-tiled room was making him sick to his stomach. He pushed his chair back and stood, pulling on his decorated black wool cloak that signified his status as Head Auror. As he rounded the corner of his desk, Ron thrust a file into his hands.  
  
"It's all in there, mate," Ron said, his tone cautious. "Hate to see things go down this way, for your sake, but I can't say that I'm all that surprised, considering."  
  
Harry said nothing and opened the file, its edges bent and worn from months and months of being handled and overstuffed with surveillance details, suspect lists, and victim reports. On the first page was the name and photograph of their newest suspect.  
  
"Let's get this over with, then."  
  
"Harry, you sure you don't want me to call in McAlister on this? I mean, all things considered and whatnot," Ron offered, stopping Harry at the door.  
  
"It'll be fine."  
  
Ron looked doubtful as he followed Harry down the hallway to interrogation.  
  


(((*)))

  
  
"I told you a hundred times,  _Weasley_ , I've no idea how those things ended up there."  
  
Ron leaned back and clasped his hands behind his head, the uncomfortable metal chair teetering on two legs.  
  
"The way I see it, Malfoy, you've only got one option here. Admit to stealing the artefacts, start naming names, and Harry and I will do what we can regarding sentencing on account of your cooperation."  
  
Harry saw Draco's jaw tense. They were getting nowhere. Draco hadn't looked at him at all since Ron first spelled the Magical bindings around his wrists.  
  
A knot formed in Harry's stomach at the memory of the shock and betrayal he'd seen in Draco's eyes.  
  
"Have I been charged?" Draco asked, standing, his glare trying to burn a hole right through Ron's red Auror robes.  
  
"No," Harry said, looking sharply at Ron, who muttered, "Not yet" under his breath.  
  
"Then I'm free to leave?" Draco shot back, still staring at Ron.  
  
"Well now, there's where you're wrong, Malfoy. You see, under the Auror and Criminal Evidence Act of 1998, we can hold you here for questioning for up to twenty-four hours. Thirty-six with Harry's permission here, and up to four days if we can convince Minister Shacklebolt that you're a threat.”  
  
Draco's jaw dropped and he sat down, gaping for a moment before shutting down completely. Harry knew they weren't going to get anymore out of Draco . . . not like this.  
  
"Ron, leave us."  
  
Ron looked up at Harry in confusion, but Harry's eyes were on Draco.  
  
"You sure you want to--?"  
  
"Ron," Harry said gently, "Go."  
  
Ron stood, but hesitated at the door. "You'd better take a step back from this before you do something stupid, mate."  
  
"Please, Ron." Harry was cordial, but firm.  
  
"You're the boss."  
  
Harry ignored Draco's derisive snicker as Ron slammed the door behind him.  
  


(((*)))

  
  
"You really should have a solicitor here with you."  
  
Draco shot him a glare - the first time he'd made eye contact with Harry since being arrested during the raid on Malfoy Manor.  
  
"Stupid me for thinking that I didn't need one with you leading the investigation."  
  
"Draco-"  
  
"Don't you  _dare_  fucking call me that,  _Potter_. Only my friends are permitted that courtesy, and you're no longer counted among them."  
  
Harry wanted to reach out and touch Draco's shoulders, to smooth the wrinkled fabric of his shirt. It was unusual to see Draco in such disarray - but then, everything about this day was unusual.  
  
"All right," Harry finally said. "It's not too late to invoke your right to speak with a solicitor. We can provide you with one."  
  
"I'm well aware of my rights. This is hardly my first time being accused of something I haven't done."  
  
Harry sat down across from him, the cool blue glow of the charm that indicated their interview was still being recorded hovering overhead. Draco turned in his chair, facing away from him.  
  
"Let's start again from the beginning, okay?"  
  
Draco said nothing, but Harry could tell that he was gritting his teeth.  
  
"Look, Malfoy, I want to help you--"  
  
"You  _used_  me!" Draco shouted, standing so abruptly that his chair fell behind him, the metal clanging against the tile floor and echoing in the small space.  
  
Harry was almost relieved to see the outburst of emotion. Experience told him that it was usually the first sign that a suspect was about to crack.  
  
But this wasn't just any suspect. This was Malfoy.  _Draco_.  
  
"Sit down."  
  
"Why don't you just dose me with Veritaserum and have done with it?"  
  
"You know that I can't do that."  
  
"And I bet it's absolutely  _killing_  you."  
  
Harry stood and walked around the table, righting Draco's chair and motioning for him to sit.  
  


(((*)))

  
  
The temporary ban on Veritaserum had put a major kink in the Auror Squad's closure rate. The efficacy of Veritaserum had been thrown into doubt when Rupert Stebbins had been accused of the murder of his ten year old son, tried, and subsequently sentenced to life in Azkaban - his confession under Veritaserum had played a major role in the trial. Two years later, the true culprit - a man by the name of David Roman - had come forth with irrefutable evidence of his guilt, admitting that he had framed Stebbins as revenge for Stebbins’ role in the accidental death of Roman's teenage daughter a decade earlier. The use of Veritaserum had been banned pending a full investigation.  
  
The only other substitute permitted was Legilimency, but due to the especially invasive nature of the spell, it couldn't be performed without the explicit consent of the suspect.  
  
And Draco knew that he would never allow Potter inside his mind. There was too much that he had to keep hidden,  _especially_  from Potter.  
  
Draco watched as Potter drummed his fingers on the table, staring him down as though they had all the time in the world. He glanced at the clock - he'd been there for over five hours now.  
  
Harry stood suddenly and turned toward the door. Draco thought for a brief moment that Potter was giving up, but when the other man simply asked him if he'd like tea or coffee, Draco just shook his head and watched as Potter shut the door behind him.  
  
"God damn you, Blaise," Draco mumbled under his breath. When Draco next saw him, he was going to beat the living shit out of him. Hexes wouldn't be good enough - Draco wanted to feel the man's bones crack under his fists.  
  
Nearly fifteen minutes passed before Draco heard the click of the doorknob, and he steeled himself to face Potter again. Only it wasn't Potter that came through the door, it was Hermione Granger-Weasley.  
  
"What the hell do you think you're doing by not asking for a solicitor?" Hermione asked, sweeping into the room with and glaring at him. "Have you completely lost your mind?"  
  
Before Draco could answer her, she had set her monogrammed leather case on the table and, with a quick wave of her wand, opened the locks. She then announced her name and title in a clear voice, and aimed her wand at the charm overhead until it pulsed a dark orange that meant they were no longer being recorded. Her hair was done up in a loose chignon, and the robes she wore were navy and austere. She sat down in Harry's chair and began pulling out various papers, a pencil, and notebook.  
  
"How did you know I was here?"  
  
"Never mind that. You need to tell me everything that's happened, starting with when the Aurors showed up at the Manor."  
  
"Go home, Granger." Draco rubbed his eyes. Exhaustion was starting to overtake him - not exactly a surprise considering it was already half past seven in the evening, and he'd been stuck in this room for close to six hours. And on a Saturday, no less.  
  
Hermione slid a shiny red apple across the table to him, ignoring his request.  
  
"I thought you might be hungry," she said, her tone surprisingly gentle.  
  
Draco nodded his thanks, picking up the apple and taking a small bite, letting the sweet juice settle on his tongue as he chewed slowly.  
  
"Your lesser half is positively thrilled that you're here with me, I'm sure."  
  
Hermione sat up straight, tucking an errant curl behind her ear. "He doesn't know."  
  
Draco paused mid chew, brow raised in surprise. "Going behind his back so soon into your marriage? Why, Granger, I didn't know you had it in you."  
  
"Oh stuff it, Draco. You need to tell me what's going on so that I can help you out of this mess."  
  
He placed the half-eaten apple on the table and sighed. He trusted her well enough, if not necessarily as a friend, then definitely as a colleague. As his superior, she'd had plenty of opportunities in the past to pay Draco back for all of the cruel things he said and done to her and her friends both before and during the war while he'd been clerking for her, but she had been unfailingly fair from the very beginning, and she’d won Draco's respect almost immediately. They were friendly and had enjoyed the occasional drink at the pub with the rest of the crew at the DMLE when situations warranted, but their association outside of work ended there.  
  
"It doesn't matter, Hermione. I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't. If I had asked for a solicitor immediately, they - your husband included - would interpret it as my having something to hide."  
  
"You know better, Draco. How many times have we told a client to  _always_  invoke your right to counsel?"  
  
Just then, the door opened again, and this time it was Potter. He was balancing a small tray on one hand that held three large cups of coffee, judging by the smell that wafted into the room, and in the other was a large paper sack with small grease stains dotting the front and sides.  
  
"Fish and chips from the canteen, hope you don't mind," he said, setting the coffee and the food on the table. Hermione quickly moved her notebook out of the way of the greasy paper sack, scowling up at Harry. "Old Mr Sanderson is on duty tonight, and I didn't trust anything else, quite frankly."  
  
Draco watched as Harry shoved one of the tall paper cups in his direction, along with several small packets of sugar.  
  
"Still take your coffee black and sweet?" Harry asked, just before taking a sip from his own cup.  
  
Hermione poked at the paper sack with her pencil and waited, as though expecting its contents to poke back. After a moment, she shrugged and opened it up, then reached inside and pulled out a chip. She took a bite.  
  
"Not bad, considering," she said, reaching for another and pushing the bag towards Draco.  
  
"When did you get here?" Harry asked her.  
  
"About six hours too late, it seems," Hermione answered with a glare at Harry.  
  
It was then that Draco noticed the third cup of coffee on the tray.  
  
"You told her." Draco looked at him accusingly.  
  
Harry said nothing as he tore off a piece of fish and bit into it greedily. He shrugged his shoulders.  
  
"Any salt in there?" Hermione asked as she reached for the bag.  
  
" _You told her_ ," Draco repeated after being ignored.  
  
"So what if I did?"  
  
Harry wiped his hands on a napkin and started unbuttoning his robe, shrugging it off to reveal the plain white cotton shirt beneath.  
  
"And why wasn't I told when he was first brought in?"  
  
"We offered; he refused."  
  
"And since when do you care what a suspect wants?"  
  
Harry gave her withering look. "Low blow."  
  
Hermione grinned.  
  
Draco was watching them with increasing frustration. "What the hell are you playing at, Potter?"  
  
Harry swallowed his mouthful and took a large gulp of coffee. "I told you before that I thought you should have a solicitor here. I assumed that you would want someone you could trust," he said, jabbing his thumb in Hermione's direction.  
  
"Get out."  
  
"Malfoy--"  
  
"I said get out! I want to talk to  _my solicitor_  alone!" he shouted.  
  
"But I haven't finished my-"  
  
Harry's words were interrupted by the sack of fish and chips being thrown at the door, its greasy contents hitting the floor with a dull thud.  
  
"--food." Harry looked mournfully at a large piece of fish before turning to glare at Draco.  
  
"I'm trying to be your friend, here," Harry said, pointing his finger accusingly at him.  
  
"Well, with friends like you . . ." Draco sneered.  
  
Harry bit the inside of his cheek and Draco knew that he was holding back a scathing retort. Draco knew that it was Harry's tell for when he'd gone from merely irritated to full-on angry. He didn't care - he was tired, he was hot, and he fucking well wanted to go home.  
  
"See if you can get him to consent to Legilimency, would you? I can't make him see sense."  
  
Draco watched as Harry opened the door and slammed it shut behind him.  
  
"They like slamming doors around here, don't they?" he said as he reached for Harry's coffee.  
  
At Hermione's questioning look, he shrugged. "How do I know he didn't put something in mine?"  
  
She rolled her eyes.  
  


(((*)))

  
  
"Possession of stolen artefacts carries five to ten years, Draco. The fact that two particular artefacts were stolen by Death Eaters during the war will almost certainly get you the maximum sentence. You need to tell me who gave them to you."  
  
Draco shook his head. She kept asking, but he refused to answer. As much as he wanted to punish his childhood friend for asking Draco to 'temporarily store' the items without telling him what they really were, that punishment would come from him -  _not_  the Ministry.  
  
"Draco, I don't think that you fully understand--"  
  
"No, Granger. Find another way to prove that I didn't steal them, and that I'm not involved in this theft ring. I'm not telling you any more than I already have."  
  
"And that's why you don't want to consent to Legilimency? To protect a person who put you at such risk? It isn't as though this black market dealing hasn't been front page news for months now. How do you know it wasn't them that sent Ron the anonymous tip which led the Aurors to you?"  
  
"Because, I just know."  
  
Hermione sighed.  
  
"There's something that you're not telling me, Draco."  
  
"We've established that already."  
  
"No," she said, leaning forward, staring right through him. "Something more. What else are you hiding?"  
  
Draco kept his expression as neutral as possible, but apparently it wasn't enough to deflate her suspicion.  
  
"Something to do with Harry, perhaps?"  
  
He laughed, but couldn't meet her gaze.  
  
"Draco," she said softly, "that's it, isn't it?"  
  
Several moments passed before Draco spoke. "He doesn't trust me."  
  
"I think that he does."  
  
"He doesn't." Draco began picking at the rim of his now empty paper cup, the coffee long gone.  
  
"If he didn't, he wouldn't have told me that you were here."  
  
Draco didn't have an answer for that. He  _was_  confused about why Potter had called in Granger, especially considering how things had unfolded in the hours before her arrival. Potter had been distant, cold - even as he’d tried to play the role of interrogator by the book, saying all the right things that Aurors are trained to say in order to gain a suspect's trust and lead them into a confession. When he'd reappeared with the coffee and food, his entire demeanor had changed. Draco had written it off as yet another trust-earning tactic, but he wasn't as certain about that now as he'd been before noticing the third cup of coffee.  
  
"Harry likes you."  
  
Draco laughed again. "He likes getting drunk with me. There's a difference."  
  
"He likes you enough to let you sleep off your hangover on his couch."  
  
"That happened  _twice_ ," Draco clarified, rejecting her insinuation. "Look, six months ago, the Golden Boy could barely look at me. The fact that he deigns to get drunk with me hardly makes us  _friends_. That pub was mine before he waltzed in that night like he owned the place and planted his sanctimonious arse in the stool next to mine at the bar. He should be going to  _his_  pub with the rest of the brigade and leave me the hell alone."  
  
Hermione stared at him for a long moment, and Draco began to feel uncomfortable under her knowing gaze.  
  
"Okay," she said finally.  
  
"Okay, what?"  
  
"Okay, I won't tell Harry."  
  
She began to pack up her things and put them back in her case.  
  
"You won't tell Harry  _what_?" Draco asked, laying his hand on her notebook just as she was about to pick it up.  
  
She looked at him, and Draco knew that she'd figured it out. It made him panic more than he had even during the arrest.  
  
 _Fuck_.  
  
"I've suspected for a while, you know." She yanked her notebook out from under his hand and placed it in her case. "I see the way you look at him. The way your eyes glaze over whenever he's talked about during a case."  
  
"Granger," he said with alarm, "whatever it is that you're thinking in that admittedly brilliant mind of yours, I can assure you that you are way off track."  
  
"I don't think I am."  
  
She put the last of her papers into her case and closed the lid before snapping the locks closed.  
  
"Tell him. You might be pleasantly surprised."  
  
Draco stared at her, eyes wide and mouth gaping.  
  
"Look at the men he's dated since he came out, Draco. Tall, blond, sarcastic . . .sound familiar?"  
  
"That's absurd," Draco said, choking out a laugh.  
  
"Is it?"  
  
" _Yes_!"  
  
"In fact, Legilimency might be just the thing." Hermione cocked her head, brow furrowed in contemplation.  
  
"I don't believe it," Draco said mockingly, "being married to Weasley has actually made you dumber."  
  
"Just hear me out. You  _know_  how Harry is - sometimes he needs to be hit over the head with something before it sinks in."  
  
"I'm starting to think that you're the one who's been hit on the head."  
  
Hermione waved off the insult. "Not only would Harry know for certain that you're innocent, but you might even get a shag out of it, as well."  
  
"Yes, because the fact that he  _thinks I'm part of a theft ring selling stolen artefacts from the war_  is exactly the kind of foreplay that I'm into."  
  
"Harry doesn't think you're really guilty. He's just doing his job."  
  
"You're mad," Draco said, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. " _Barking_."  
  
"Did you know that when you first started working at the DMLE, Harry told me to keep an eye out for you?"  
  
"Why, because he suspected me even way back then of still being up to no good?"  
  
"No, you berk, to make sure that no one caused you any trouble."  
  
Draco opened his mouth to speak, but no words came.  
  
"It's true. You may think that Harry couldn't look at you six months ago because he hated you, but the truth is, he thought that you still hated him for putting your father in prison for the rest of his life."  
  
"I . . . I don’t blame him for what my father did during the war. I dare say he got what was coming to him, all things considered."  
  
"Yes, well, you know Harry."  
  
"Clearly, I don't," Draco answered quietly.  
  
Hermione rounded the table and placed her hand on his shoulder. "If you want Harry to trust you, you're going to need to trust him a little bit, as well. He brought me here to help you, Draco. That has to count for something."  
  
Draco put his elbows on the table, resting his head in his hands. He didn't know what to think anymore.  
  
"Look, it's nearly midnight. I'm going to get you released, and we'll go over the rest of the particulars in the morning to start working on your defense," she said, folding her robe over her arm and picking up her case. "Be in my office by eight o'clock."  
  


(((*)))

  
  
Harry was sitting in his office, finishing up his final interrogation notes in Draco's file when there was a knock on his door. He glanced up; standing in the open doorway was the man himself.  
  
"You're free to leave, Malfoy," Harry said, turning his attention back to the file.  
  
He couldn't bear to look at him. Never mind the fact that Draco looked like shit - who wouldn't after nearly ten hours in an interrogation room? - or that his odd friendship with Draco was now destroyed beyond all repair. No, Harry couldn't look at him because he knew that he'd let Draco down, and that was something that he’d sworn to himself he'd never do. Enough people in his life had let Draco down - his parents, his so-called friends. Harry didn't want to be a part of that group.  
  
"You're here late," Draco said quietly, walking toward Harry's desk.  
  
"Just finishing some things up."  
  
"The next shift is already here."  
  
Draco sat down in the chair across from him, crossing his legs casually as though he were there to chat about his day. Harry tried not to stare at the dark circles under his eyes. He was certain that he wasn't looking much better after the day he'd had.  
  
"Do you trust me, Potter?"  
  
Harry was unprepared for such a straightforward question, but answered without hesitation.  
  
"No."  
  
Hurt flashed across Draco's face for just a brief moment.  
  
"But you don't trust me, either, Malfoy."  
  
Draco nodded and sighed. "I suppose that's fair."  
  
"It's honest."  
  
An awkward silence fell. Harry shut his office door with a wave of his wand.  
  
"I want to trust you. Do I believe that you're really a part of this gang of thieves? No, I don't. I don't think you're that stupid, for one thing," Harry said, noting the small smile that Draco tried to hide. "And I don’t think that you would risk everything that you've done since the war just for a few things that you could buy without batting an eyelash. The cost of most of those items wouldn't even make a dent in the Malfoy vaults."  
  
Draco looked at him askance.  
  
"We're very thorough on suspect backgrounds, as you know. And besides," Harry added with a smirk, "I don't believe your taste is quite as gaudy as the items found at the Manor suggest."  
  
"But you know that I have information."  
  
"Of course. I'm not entirely useless at my job, Malfoy."  
  
"And if I don't want to give that information to you?"  
  
Harry leaned back, staring hard at Draco. "Then we have a problem."  
  
"I'll give you the name that you want on one condition."  
  
Harry stood and moved to sit on the corner of his desk, his leg brushing against Draco's. "I'm not sure that you're in any position to ask that."  
  
"Let me bring him in."  
  
"You don't ask for much, do you?" Harry laughed.  
  
Draco looked up at him, and Harry could feel warmth radiating from the other man as they stared at one another in challenge.  
  
"You'll just have to trust me, won't you?"  
  
"You're still asking a lot."  
  
"Then let me offer something in return."  
  
"Such as?"  
  
"I'll grant you consent."  
  
It took a moment for Harry's overtired mind to catch on. "You're consenting to Legilimency?"  
  
"Only if you agree to let me bring in the person who can give you what you really want - the name of the ring-leader and everyone else involved. In exchange for leniency, of course - he won’t give you something for nothing, after all.”

Draco paused, but just as Harry was about to interject, continued. “ _And_  I want whatever you might discover to be kept off the record. This has to be kept strictly between you and me."  
  
"What makes you so certain that this person will agree to surrender, let alone give up names?"  
  
"Ah, there's that trust thing again." Draco grinned.  
  
"So far, it seems as though you're on the winning end of this bargain, Malfoy."  
  
"I think I liked it better when you called me Draco."  
  
"And you say I'm fickle?" Harry laughed.  
  
Draco just shrugged. "Do we have a deal or not,  _Harry_?"  
  
"I have your word that you won't try to Occlude me? I'll know if you do - you know my record."  
  
After several tense moments, Draco nodded, and Harry un-holstered his wand.  
  
" _Legilimens!_ "  
  


(((*)))

  
  
"You're going to make me late for court."  
  
"Is that a bad thing?" Harry asked as he ran his hand down the bare skin of Draco's thigh, licking a path across his collarbone.  
  
"Seeing as how I'm the star witness for the defense, yes."  
  
Draco tangled his hands in Harry's hair, trying to guide him to where he really wanted Harry's attention - and tongue - focused, despite his protestations about being late.  
  
"Hermione will understand," Harry answered, words muffled as he licked and nipped and kissed his way down Draco's sleep-warm body.  
  
"Bloody well hurry up, will you? I haven't got all morning!"  
  
Harry's head poked out suddenly from beneath the sheets, his hair a wild mess and sporting a spectacular pout. "Well, if you're going to be like  _that_  . . ."  
  
"Oh shut up, you, and get back to the one thing that I know you--"  
  
Draco's words were cut off with a satisfied gasp as Harry's mouth engulfed the head of Draco's prick and swallowed him down in one swift motion.  
  
"Christ," Draco said breathlessly as he finally exhaled, Harry working him expertly with tongue and mouth and hand from where he lay cradled in the vee of Draco's trembling legs. "You're trying to kill me, aren't you, Potter? Death by blow job."  
  
Harry paused in his task long enough to peek his head out from beneath he sheets once more, smiling a toothy grin.  
  
"You'll just have to trust me, won't you?"  
  
 _fini_


End file.
